


Five Times Crowley Didn't Orgasm and One Time He Did

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Fingering, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, just all the sex, promptfill, this is very nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Demons are supposed to trick, to tempt, to lure and to seduce. They're not supposed to have their own fun while they're doing it - which means Crowley has not orgasm'd in six thousand years.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 323
Collections: Anonymous





	Five Times Crowley Didn't Orgasm and One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Tadfield Advertiser; transferred here for archive purposes.

_1) Their First Time_

"Crowley, oh, _oh_!"

Aziraphale threw his head back, rattling the bookcase he was bracing his shoulders against. The movement allowed him to rock his hips forward, into the tight, hot cavern of the demon's mouth.

The tip of his cock bumped the back of Crowley's throat, forcing him to both quickly wish his gag-reflex away and unhinge his jaw to make room for the angel's sizable girth. Salty, slightly bitter flavor spread across his tongue. Against the tip of his nose, blonde pubic hair tickled, smelling of arousal, sweat and unbridled enthusiasm.

Well, Crowley would give him something to be excited about. He let saliva spill over his lips so he could create and airtight seal, then hollowed his cheeks.

Aziraphale jerked like a galvanized frog. "Oh, _fuck_!"

Reduced to sailor's cussing so quickly. A shudder trickled down Crowley's spine, pooling hotly in his belly. He wriggled his longer-than-human, dextrous tongue against the vein on the underside.

The angel's hands fisted in his hair, loosened, then clenched again, nails scratching against his scalp. Seemingly without him being fully aware of it. "Crowley, oh, d-dear, I'm-"

Crowley moved both hands up Aziraphale's thighs so he could slide them around back and grab the perfect, round handfuls of his still trouser-clad backside.

Aziraphale squeaked, twisting away in surprise – and spilled himself in a hot, quivering burst across Crowley's lips, nose and cheeks.

The demon blinked in surprise. "You just-"

His heavenly adversary sank back against the bookcase like a swooning maiden – and he was panting like one. "Oh, my dear, I am _so_ sorry. That came completely unexpected."

Crowley barely managed to stop himself from blurting _'That's what she said.'_ He had a sudden, sinking feeling in his guts. "Angel... was that your first time?"

Aziraphale blushed to the roots of his hairs.

 _Fuck_ , thought Crowley. Heat shot into his own cheeks. He should have asked. Everything had gone so quickly after their dinner at the Ritz: they'd been high on reaping the rewards of their cunning, drunk on their own success, reveling in each other's company. Things had progressed from the champagne to the dessert wines, steadily climbing in alcohol content. Then they'd been driving home and Aziraphale had asked him inside - and somewhere between the closed front door and the kitchen they'd found themselves kissing against the bookshelves, tugging at belt buckles, hot, needy noises pressed between their lips. It had been no effort at all to sink to his knees, but he shouldn't have, he should have taken his time, fuck -

"Would you... um." Aziraphale cleared his throat, trying very obviously not to stare at Crowley's cum-slicked lashes. "Would you like me to return the favor?"

"No! I mean," Crowley added hastily, when the angel's face fell, "I'm good, angel. Really. Giving that to you felt... good."

His own erection lay throbbing against his thigh, packed to the right, as it was wont to lean. If he was honest with himself, it felt quite good. In a _let me lean against you and enjoy your warmth for a while_ way.

Crowley snapped his fingers to make it disappear – and the evidence on his face with it – and hopped up.

"I, uh-," began Aziraphale.

Crowley cut him off. "You're shaking, angel. Let's get you a cup of tea."

He turned to the kitchen. A hand curled around his wrist.

"Angel?"

"Did you... You didn't get anything out of this, my dear."

Crowley quirked a brow. "Are you asking me if it was good for me, too?"

If the angel's face turned any more red, he'd spontaneously burst into flames. "I think?"

"Yes."

"So we can do this again?"

He sounded so... hopeful. In the half-dark, his eyes seemed huge. Huge and blue and so, so innocent.

In the confines of his trousers, Crowley's dick gave an interested twitch. His lips curved. "As often as you want, angel."

–

_2) Their Next First Time_

Aziraphale was a screamer. He also wasn't shy in the least once they'd gotten their initial concerns out of the way – namely who would be doing whom, what would that entail and what could they expect from the act? The ever-discreet internet had been a great help on all three fronts.

Crowley rolled his hips, burying himself deep in the blazing heat of Aziraphale's body. The angel arched under him, his sweaty back a long, tense line against the demon's chest.

"Oh, _darling_ ," he moaned, fingers working in the pillow he was clutching tightly against his chest.

Encouraged, Crowley quickened his thrusts, shifting the angle ever so slightly in his search for-

Aziraphale cried out. "There, there! Do it again!"

He spread his knees wider so he could force his arse deeper into Crowley's welcoming lap, bunching the sheets around them.

"Fuck, _angel_ ," Crowley hissed, finding himself surrounded by blinding pressure from all sides. He nuzzled the back of Aziraphale's neck, where thin, sweat-slick blond curls clung to his skin.

He smelled of green tea and shampoo - something fruity, probably expensive, he'd gotten really into bathing lately - and Crowley lapped it up, working his way around to nibble at the angel's ear.

At the first graze of sharp incisors, Aziraphale turned his face into the mattress. His knuckles were white, his shoulders shaking. "Again," he whimpered, half-caught on a sob. "Please!"

Pleasure curled tightly in Crowley's belly. "Say that again," he demanded.

"P-please." Aziraphale's breath hitched. " _Pleasepleaseplease_ , oh, Crowley!"

His channel tightened around the demon's hard cock, squeezing it for dear life. And yet, it still felt so very _welcoming_... - Crowley would have bet money he'd never been inside a hole this soft, this _nice_.

White flared behind his eyes, searing-hot in its pleasure. It was both exhilarating and very, very bad. It made him want to keep going; to climb the peak and ride the high. Something a demon should never do.

A moan spilled past his lips, muffled against the angel's shoulder. He needed to re-establish some semblance of control, and fast.

Blindly, he groped around until he could wrap an arm around the angel, fumbling for his cock. As soon as he started massaging the wet, weeping length, Aziraphale cried out again: little, sharp shrieks of delight that, in combination with the continued friction around his cock, made Crowley bite his lip until he broke the skin, just to stay clear-headed.

He focused on keeping his rhythm and angle steady.

Aziraphale, being new to this kind of congress, barely lasted a minute under the onslaught. With how close they were, Crowley could _feel_ his body twitch and his muscles lock as his beautiful, plump cock spurted his release onto the sheets.

As soon as the angel's hole stopped clenching around him, he pulled out as gently as he could, and, with a snap, disposed of the condom.

Getting rid of his raging erection took another snap - the angel had really managed to wind him up this time. Once that was taken care of, Crowley flopped onto the mattress, next to his bonelessly sprawled-out lover.

Despite having gotten rid of the evidence of his arousal, his breath was still coming in fast little bursts, ardor singing in his veins. "Leave it to an angel to have the best arse in the galaxy," he mumbled, curling closer, so he could draw Aziraphale's sweaty form against his chest.

The angel spread a hand on his chest, brushing a nipple with his thumb. "Crowley," he began hesitantly.

"Mmm?"

"Did you...?" His fingertip drew a circle around Crowley's nipple. He wasn't looking at him. "I admit my perception went a little hazy back there, but I had the feeling you hadn't..."

"I haven't," Crowley admitted. He stretched an arm out over his head, flattening his palm against the headboard. 

"Oh," said Aziraphale.

Crowley slid the fingers of his other hand into blond curls, stirring the fruity smell again. _Peaches_ , he thought. Juicy, ripe peaches; reminding him of the first flavors of summer on a long-forgotten bazaar. His eyelids grew heavy. "Would you mind terribly if I fell asleep on you now?"

"I -"

Something about the angel's voice sounded off. Crowley tried to figure out what it could be. But the heat in his blood had turned from explosive to effusive, flowing through his veins like magma through the Earth's crust.

"Azsssiraphale?"

"I..." The angel made a low sound. "No, I guess I don't mind. If you're certain. Sleep well, my love."

Comfortable and content, Crowley drifted off.

–

_3) The First Time They Did It That Other Way_

The first time Aziraphale fucked him, really fucked him, they were on the couch in the bookshop, shortly after closing. Although the other way around might have been more accurate, since it was still Crowley who straddled his lap, thighs bracketing the angel's sides as he rolled his hips with abandon.

"Oh, angel, fuck, fuck, do that again!"

Aziraphale shook under him, with passion or with laughter Crowley didn't know. He was too busy throwing his head back and panting, open-mouthed, at the ceiling. He didn't really care, either, as long as Aziraphale kept meeting him thrust for thrust; ramming that lovely, long cock deep.

Broad, warm, angelic hands settled over his hips, keeping Crowley from bouncing himself right off the side of the sofa. "M-my dear, what exactly do you want me to-- mmrrgh."

Since this was technically the angel's first brush with penetrative sex, Crowley would forgive him the cluelessness. "G-spot," he gasped instead, very focused on working the head of Aziraphale's cock over exactly that area.

"Gee-spot?", the angel panted.

"Griff- greyff- unng." Crowley shook his head, finding, absently, that his russet mop had grown about four inches while he wasn't paying attention. Damn, Aziraphale's cock was so slippery, it was practically dripping with their combined arousal.

Crowley's head snapped around to face the angel. He clutched the angel's ghastly tartan sweater. "Come inside me."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, but his tightening grip betrayed his eagerness. Still, he slowed his thrusts. "You first."

The demon drove himself down harder to compensate. It was almost like - and at the same time _much better_ than - riding a horse. "N-no. You."

"I want to feel you let go," Aziraphale urged. "I bet you'd feel wonderful, coming around my cock."

White sparks exploded like fireworks behind Crowley's eyelids. He could feel the edge hovering; could feel himself falling towards it, like a cartoon character crashing into a wall. Instinctively, he wriggled to the side, getting the friction away from where his swollen flesh throbbed. But it wasn't enough. Fuck, he was so close - he had to stop. But he wouldn't leave Aziraphale hanging. "Angel," he panted, looking down. "I really need you to come inside me _right now_."

Suddenly, the world tilted. Bookcases wooshed through Crowley's field of vision, too fast to come into sharp focus, and then he was on his back, staring up at the angel's beautiful face.

Aziraphale pressed their mouths together, tangling their tongues. His hot spit dripped into Crowley's mouth, smearing all over his lips, tasting like Heaven and angel and every good thing in the world. It prickled on his skin, on his tongue.

In sheer panic, Crowley shoved Aziraphale off him. "N-no!"

But his taste still lingered. His body twitched, toes curling. Quickly, he stuck a hand down between his legs and pinched his clit _hard_. "Ah, oww, _fuck!_ "

He took a deep breath.

"Crowley!"

The demon's eyes snapped open. Aziraphale was hovering over him, eyes wide.

"What the- the Sam are you doing?"

Crowley blinked up at him. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that question? You can't actually get me pregnant, by the way, if that was the cause for your hesitation, angel."

He sunk back against the couch cushions, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the fabric against his back. Possibly due to the fact that Aziraphale's cushions were much nicer now than they'd been an hour ago.

"That was _not_ the point!"

The sharp tone finally registered. Crowley frowned. "Then why didn't you come inside me?"

"Be-," Aziraphale huffed in anger. "Because you didn't come."

"You didn't have a problem with that the last times we did it," Crowley pointed out. He suddenly felt very naked, nude on Aziraphale's couch while the somewhat clothed angel loomed over him. 

An angel who was looking more confounded - and enraged - by the second. "The first time I was following your lead," he said. "And the second time, you barely let me get a word in edgewise. I-," his gaze turned pleading. "If this isn't your preferred form of congress, my dear. I want us to both enjoy what we do together, and if you can't, for whatever reason, than I'd rather we not do it."

Crowley turned that over in his head for a moment. But even upon second examination, the words didn't seem any clearer. "I _am_ enjoying myself. As I have told you multiple times already, angel."

"Then why do you never show it? Do you not like... orgasming?"

His cheeks were tinged pink; a sight Crowley found oddly endearing. But still. "Don't be ridiculous."

Aziraphale's face fell. "What?"

"I'm a _demon_ , angel. This thing-," he gestured between them, "Doesn't end the same way for me as it does for you. We're not supposed to find joy in the act, for one. That's human - as you well know. They do it all the bloody time just for the kick."

He shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair to shorten it back to its previous state. Far less annoying not to have sweat-slicked locks clinging to the side of his face like sideburns gone wrong. "Finding that kind of pleasure with someone you care about is _good_ , angel. Inherently. I can't be good. So there's really no point in worrying about me, alright? It's _your_ pleasure that coun-"

The sound of books toppling over drew Crowley's attention. Aziraphale had knocked against them with the back of his foot when he retreated, sending them sprawling over the carpet. It wasn't like him, to be this careless with books, the demon thought, before noticing the angel's face.

He looked _horrified_. He was pale as a sheet, the white around his sky-blue eyes glinting sharply. His mouth opened once, twice, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He just stared at Crowley for a moment longer, then, when the demon tried to say something, he turned on his heel and fled, stumbling, up to his flat.

The door slammed shut behind him, lock clicking shut.

  


–

  


_4) That Time After They Talked_

Crowley heard the front door to his flat open and then shut again, gently, and didn't bother to rise from the couch. Instead he pushed a hand into his hair, pulling at the strands, and thumbed at his own nipples. They were red, but relaxed, and only tightened when he gave the nub a gentle squeeze.

A shadow appeared in the living room door frame. "My de- oh, dear."

"Look what the cat dragged in," Crowley drawled, letting go of his nipple and letting his leg fall off the couch. Since the other was still hooked over the backrest, this would afford the angel a straight-up _pornographic_ view of his wet, thoroughly swollen cunt.

Aziraphale flushed and turned his head away. "Could you perhaps...?"

"No."

"Ah." His gaze fell to the floor. "No, I guess you wouldn't."

Crowley arched his back, rolling his pelvis just so. To his delight, the angel stiffened, which at least meant he was paying attention. Even though the front of his trousers stayed remarkably flat. Had he not made an effort, at all?

The demon sat up. Without closing his legs, of course. "What are you doing here?"

"I, uh." More blushing. "I came to check up on you."

"Me."

"Yes. Are you... are you alright?"

"Alright?" Crowley repeated, jaw dropping in disbelief. "Gee, Aziraphale. You left me _naked_ on your couch and refused to come out while I was still there. Which was _three months ago_. I don't know. Am I alright?"

Aziraphale winced. "I'm sorry."

"Sure." Crowley fell back on the couch. Idly, he slid a hand down his belly, through the red curls and into the slick, warm softness of his cunt. It didn't feel overly enticing, but at least it was distracting. "Great. Now that you've said your piece and all is right in the world again, do let the door hit your arse on the way out."

The angel's gaze met his, catching briefly around where Crowley was easing a second finger inside himself. "My dear, please-"

"Please _what_ , angel?"

"Can we talk about this?"

Crowley sighed. "No need. You've made your point. I understand."

 _You want something I can't give you, and now that you've realized this, you've decided you don't want me after all. Spare us both the humiliation of having to say it out loud_ , he pleaded, internally.

But evidently to-whomever-it-may-concern wasn't in office today, because Aziraphale stepped away from the door and perched, quite gingerly, on the armrest of the couch. It was the only free spot in the room, considering Crowley's tactful lack of furniture, but also meant he was practically between the demon's legs. Well, his ankles.

Once more, the position didn't seem to faze the angel one bit, which solidified Crowley's suspicion about the effort, or lack thereof.

"No, I rather don't think you do," Aziraphale began, looking upon him with such softness the demon felt compelled to stop touching himself. He kept going just to be contrary.

"The reason- What happened that day- no." The angel stopped, curling in on himself a little. "You think I don't want you, isn't that so?"

Crowley snorted. _I know you don't want me_ , he thought. It hurt a little.

Aziraphale nodded as if he'd heard. Which he couldn't have, of course. He looked at his toes, which were sans shoes and digging into the Persian rug.

"I'm sorry," he said, again. "I never meant to give you that feeling. Because I... I do want you. But the things you said, when you pushed me off the couch -"

"Made you change your mind. Yes, angel, I get it."

"No, you don't!" Aziraphale all but shouted, half on his feet in agitation. "I can see how you think that and this wretched situation is entirely my fault, I admit it. But what you said to me back then, that demon's don't, don't-- to think that all this time, you've let them _use_ you like that-"

Crowley sat up abruptly. "No one's been using me."

"You literally said to me not to care about anything but my own pleasure _when I was having sex with you_!"

Aziraphale's face was flushed red in... anger? No, it didn't quite feel like it. Or at least, if it was, it wasn't directed at Crowley.

The demon grabbed a pillow and pulled it into his lap, heedless of the mess he'd most likely be leaving on the casing. "Yeah, so? I was trying to make you feel good."

"At your own expense!"

That look was back in the angel's eyes; the absolute horror from that day. It made Crowley want to curl up on himself. He squashed the urge. "I'm a demon," he snarled. "That's how we do it."

Aziraphale deflated. "Yes, that is rather the point. My dear," he slipped onto the couch, between Crowley's legs, and took his hands, as heedless of the mess clinging to his fingers as the demon had been about the cushion. "It's not like that for angels. We're... uh. How do I explain." His thumb stroked Crowley's knuckles in an infinitely gentle caress. "I don't know how much you remember. If you've ever merged with another before you fell."

It didn't sound like a question, but Crowley shook his head anyway.

The hard line of Aziraphale's shoulders loosened a tiny fraction. "For us, merging - and, by extension, congress of the carnal kind - happens from a point of deep love and connection. It's supposed to be the highest expression of these feelings: the most intimate joy two beings can share. To... to leave our partner unsatisfied in that kind of situation is unpardonable." He pressed a kiss to Crowley's fingers and it felt like an apology. "Just using your body without giving you that pleasure in return... all that I am revolts against the idea."

Crowley's stomach turned. _Revolting_ , his head echoed. _I knew it, I knew it; it's over. Why did you have to drag it out, angel?_

His eyes burned. But before he could free himself from Aziraphale's grip, the angel threw both arms around him and pressed close; enough for their lips to brush, dry and tender. "Please, please hear me out," he pleaded into the space between their mouths.

Crowley out of surprise and the off-chance that the angel might kiss him again, froze.

"I love you," Aziraphale said. "I want you. And I will take you any way I can have you. If... if we don't fit this way, then we'll just... not do it. _Please_ , Crowley. Don't... don't leave me. Please." 

He was trembling, his grip on the demon so tight, it was as if he feared they'd be ripped apart at any moment.

Crowley blinked slowly. "You... you mean you'd stay with me, even if we don't have sex?"

"I...," Aziraphale's eyes widened. Then he drew the demon close, hugging him fiercely. " _Of course_ I would. I will. I _am_."

–

5) _The Time Crowley Changed His Mind_

Crowley had snuck into the angel's room while Aziraphale was out grocery shopping. Which said angel liked to do from time to time, despite the fact that he was able to miracle himself any delicacies he could ever want. ‘New flavors, my dear,' he'd say, a cotton bag slung over his shoulder, and traipse out the door.

‘You'll end up in a bookstore. Calling it right now,' Crowley had shouted after him.

Aziraphale just waved.

The angel loved bookstores; they had all the lovely modern works there: thrillers, romance, _erotica_. He especially loved that they were growing bigger and bigger, despite people apparently reading less. Crowley had a personal hand in that – both, actually.

People reading less meant less access to knowledge for the masses, which, in turn, meant a rise in uncultured behavior. Taking into account how humans normally behaved, that didn't say much, but Crowley considered himself a banker above all else: the interest would add up. It would be easier just to make all the bookstores disappear, of course. But Aziraphale would never forgive him.

He was, of course, reading more than ever before. He could spend hours surrounded by nothing but pressed, dead trees, happy as a clam. Which, in this situation, meant the angel wouldn't be back for a few hours.

Enough time for Crowley to try out something new.

He cast a glance about the room – empty, of course – and approached the large bed that took up most of the space, flopping down onto it face-first once he got there. A cloud of soothing angel-smell rose from the covers, surrounding him immediately. He inhaled it greedily, letting the familiar scent call up memories of what they'd done here before.

His cock hardened in his pants, twinging a little. With a groan, Crowley rolled over and fumbled for his fly. Since he wasn't wearing underwear, the metal scratched quite uncomfortably against his insistently swelling flesh. Wrestling it free without injuring himself took nothing short of a minor miracle.

He hissed when it popped free, instantly filling with blood. Greedy for contact.

He curled a hand around it, giving himself a gentle squeeze. Even this tender touch felt like rubbing sandpaper into his skin. Hissing louder, Crowley let go.

The liquid fire curling under his skin flared in frustration, but he knew that miracling up a cunt wouldn't make any difference. He'd been working it every time he came home from dinner with Aziraphale.

Which had been… every day for the past two weeks since they'd shyly taken up courting each other like sweethearts from the cheesiest Victorian Era romance novel ever to cheese.

Crowley could usually work himself into a nice state of exhaustion by riding the brink; that one tiny, contained moment before orgasm. He could keep himself there for hours, thrashing on a bed with a plug in his arse or two fingers in his cunt or both at the same time. But ever since their talk, he hadn't been able to really work up steam. He couldn't _focus_.

His mind was stuck on Aziraphale.

Mostly on how long they hadn't been naked in each other's presence. Which, of course, shouldn't feel like an age but somehow – to Crowley – six thousand years seemed like nothing in comparison. Now that he knew what it felt like.

He gave his cock another careful squeeze – he couldn't not, it was there, it needed attention – with the same result. Hissing, he rolled over onto his stomach.

Aziraphale's touch would never feel like this. He had that angel-thing going on, all cool skin and light and fluffiness.

Crowley wriggled his tight pants down to his knees, where they got stuck, because they were too tight to take off for a normal human. He kind of liked them that way, keeping his legs from spreading wider. Almost as if he were… bound.

He shuddered.

Aziraphale could just bend his knees to his chest, packed all tightly, and push in. Fill him up. Crowley remembered how it went: fingers first, all cool and slick, and then his cock, thick and hot and girthy. His hole would cling to it of its own accord, trying desperately to hold on when he slid out, accepting him greedily when he thrust back in again.

Crowley's cock throbbed all the way down his thighs.

He could all but feel Aziraphale's hands on his arms, his throat. They'd been kissing, but apart from that, the angel had kept a painful distance between them. As if Crowley were a book, maybe with pictures: something to look at, but not to touch.

The demon rolled his hips. The raw slide of his cock against the sheets made him wince. He thought about miracling up some lube but he knew it wouldn't actually change anything. Except maybe burn a little on the sensitive tissues, if he added a pinch of ginger oil.

He turned his head into the pillow, filling his nose with the smell of Aziraphale.

The clock on the bedside table told him it had only been ten minutes since the angel had left.

Crowley wanted to scream. He turned over again, cock standing like a flagpole; practically on the lookout for an angel who refused to touch him. The demon scowled at the appendage, watching it bob and twitch under his gaze.

He rubbed a hand over his face – the one he hadn't just been using to handle himself with, of course. Not that it mattered. He was squeaky clean except for the sweat. But even that was clean – beings of their stock didn't exactly get dirty in their physical forms.

Aziraphale didn't get dirty in any form.

Huffing indignantly, Crowley pressed his face into the sheets. He wondered how Aziraphale would react if he'd find him here, like this. Would he be able to resist? … Probably. Because he was a heavenly angel with a core made of marble and steel. He wouldn't budge at the sight of Crowley's tempting backside. Hadn't even done it when he first laid eyes upon the demon's bleached arsehole.

(Those hadn't been his demonic idea, although he came very close to taking the credit for it. He'd used the opportunity to tempt a few beauty professionals when he'd first found out, but even after going through the process several times, he had not the slightest idea why the humans were growing fond of it.)

Crowley had originally kept the bleaching thing on the back burner for a potential lover – not that said lover would touch him right now. At least not without giving him so much pleasure it made all his fuses burn through and his neurons light up like a meteor shower.

The needy pressure in his cock was slowly seeping into his lower abdomen. Holding out for cunt, probably. With a grunt, Crowley took the pillow and squashed it over his face.

And if he just went for it?

Orgasms were supposed to feel even better than the sex part. That was the whole bloody point. It was good. Transcendent. Maybe even a little bit divine. And divinity, and kind of it, could burn a demon to ash, just like they'd tried to do to Aziraphale up in Heaven.

Then again, Crowley had never actually heard of any demon perishing from cumming his brains out, and he'd been around long enough that he should have at least picked up a whisper. Except if this was the one thing other demons were actually more careful and precise at than Crowley himself. Which he highly doubted.

Maybe he just hadn't had his ear to the ground close enough. But demons liked to gossip – were encouraged to do it, actually, because it spread mistrust.

So evidence would suggest no demon had ever actually burned from just going for it at that key moment.

Crowley sat up, frowning.

Head office wouldn't be happy. But he didn't answer to head office any more. They wouldn't strike him down with lightning if he didn't follow policy – or, he was fairly certain they wouldn't, after the show Aziraphale had given them with the holy water. Because if it was a viable option, they'd have done it already. Besides, he was a demon. His very existence was born out of rebellion.

So he could, actually, just go for it.

Crowley chewed his lip.

Aziraphale wouldn't let anything happen to him right? No, he wouldn't. Just one thought about the angel's huge, baby-blue, guileless eyes dispelled all his doubts. Additionally, he'd have Aziraphale's hands on him again: in his hair, brushing against his neck, the touch sending sparks down his spine to curl around his tailbone and make his hips twitch.

His cock trembled in the air, eagerly calling attention to itself.

Crowley scowled. "Okay, yes, fine. We're going to try it. Happy now?"

He dropped his head into his hands. "Look at me, talking to my dick. I really need to get laid."

– 

_+1) The Time Crowley Trusted Aziraphale_

Aziraphale came up for air, red faced and panting, and Crowley curled his hands into the sheets with a low, yet terrifying and very frustrated growl.

This caused the angel, who'd been looking rather exhausted and a little put-out a moment before, to laugh. He sat back between Crowley's legs, rearranging himself in a way that eased his naked thighs against the sides of the demon's.

Crowley felt instantly warmed by the fact that Aziraphale remembered him liking the skin contact, but it didn't help to placate him any. "It's not working."

The angel tapped his ankle, rubbing his thumb around the bone. "Sometimes it takes time."

"We've taken bloody _time_!" It came out louder than expected. The shouting felt very gratifying. The fact that he could comfortably do it was an added bonus: the acoustics in Aziraphale's bedroom were so bloody awful there was not a chance of disturbing the neighbors – not even if they really tried. "We've tried _everything_."

And they had. They'd started with his cock, since it was supposed to be easier – not much more involved than touch, at least physically – but Crowley had writhed endlessly, hips rolling into the sweet cavern of Aziraphale's mouth until he was drenched in sweat and his dick felt like it was pruning up. Like fingers did under water.

So they'd moved on to a cunt then, which the angel had licked tirelessly and with an enthusiasm he usually reserved for freshly cracked oysters: from arsehole to clit and everything in between. He kept going until Crowley felt open enough that he could have fit an aeroplane in there; drenched and dehydrated and a little cranky.

But alright, oral didn't do it for everyone. Not even most people. So he was still willing to give penetration a try. Aziraphale's cock fit him nicely: just big enough to make his cunt feel that gentle stretch, with a pronounced head crafted specifically to nudge his g-spot until colors danced behind his eyes. Yet, whenever he felt _high tide_ coming, he couldn't help but squash it, flee from it, tense up and grit his teeth until he'd fought the sensation back. The angel had spilled twice while they'd been at it: once inside of Crowley – and the sudden burst of heat had nearly undone him, curving over the bed, head thrown back, hands fisted in his red curls – but it wasn't enough.

It only left him worked up, slick from the small of his back to his knees, and so turned-on his swollen cunt's helpless clenching actually _hurt_. Every touch felt like shattering a cathedral's glass dome; hailing down shards like tugs of pain, loud as roaring thunder.

"Crowley?"

He blinked. Aziraphale swam into focus, azure eyes big and round.

"Are you alright?"

Crowley tilted his head and almost listed to the side. Suddenly, he felt very dizzy. "I… I think so? Dehydrated, maybe?"

"Oh," said Aziraphale. He lifted Crowley's leg and ducked under it so he could stretch out beside him, one hand on the demon's belly. When Crowley raised a brow at him, he pressed a quick, open-mouthed kiss to his chest. "My poor boy." A smile curled his lips. "I think that's enough for today."

The demon's head swiveled to face him. "But I haven't–"

"I know."

Aziraphale snapped a finger and came up with a cup of water, sprinkled with what must have been lemon juice, going by the bitter smell. "Drink this."

Crowley pushed himself to his elbows and took a tentative sip. Then, shooting the angel a grateful look, he took the glass.

Aziraphale quirked a brow at him, as if to say ‘of course I remember you don't like sweets, dear,' but didn't say it out loud.

The demon finished his drink and miracled the cup away, before throwing himself into the angel's arms, snuggling against his side. "If you say so."

"I know you're thinking I don't want to do this any more."

Crowley stilled guiltily.

Aziraphale chuckled. "Right on the money, am I?"

He tugged on Crowley's shoulder until the demon wriggled aside, allowing the angel to throw one leg over him. Heedless of his hard cock – both of their cocks, actually – they came to rest squished against each other. It was pleasant to lie like this, without any urgency to spur them on.

Aziraphale nuzzled Crowley's neck, licking a spot and then blowing on it.

"Angel?"

"I know you, dear one." Aziraphale brushed a hair from his forehead, fingertips lingering against Crowley's temple. "And I know you know me enough to trust that there will be another chance. You do, right?"

Something behind Crowley's sternum squeezed. He curled into Aziraphale's chest, smiling into the sliver of space between them. Chest hair tickled his nose.

It only made him smile wider. Yeah, he knew better now.

– 

Crowley was floating on water. He was laying with his face turned skyward, limbs starfished outwards; even his fingers were splayed. The waves were carrying him: a gentle rocking, back and forth, steady and sure. They lapped at his flanks and calves, the water seeming to rise with every breath he took. He felt good.

Relaxed, too. Maybe even a little aroused, but it was a warm feeling: like his cock was enveloped in heat. He could feel himself leaking, but there was no urgency. So he just kept his eyes closed, letting his body sway with the movement of the ocean.

It worked until something nudged between his spread legs. Crowley twitched, mumbling in protest. He didn't want to leave his haven. He was safe here, carried by the current – he wanted to float for a little while more.

"Shh," whispered the wind. "It'll be alright in a moment. Just relax."

He knew that voice. He wasn't quite sure how, or who it was, but he knew he trusted them, so he relaxed. The nudging against his hole turned into a cool, painless slide, and then whatever was poking him settled inside.

Crowley sighed, spreading his legs a little more. He focused back on the rocking. The water was cool and he was growing hotter. The heat engulfing his cock had spread to his balls, and to the warm, hidden space beneath.

He tried to miracle it away – he honestly didn't want to deal with the frustration of a boner right now – but for some reason, it didn't seem to be working.

"None of that now, love," the wind admonished gently.

Crowley made a disgruntled noise that came out as a whine. He writhed, trying to wriggle into a more comfortable – meaning less arousing – position. All it did was shift the pressure in his arse.

He turned his head away and found his face pressed into something fluffy. A pillow? Crowley's sleep-addled brain couldn't quite make sense of this development. So it summarily ignored it.

"I'll add a second one now, alright?" A warm touch on his thigh. "Nothing to worry about."

Crowley tried to nod. He was an expert at not worrying.

Then there was more blunt pressure. He clenched up instinctively but it continued, pushing and rubbing until he stretched, helpless to stop the intrusion.

With a gasp, Crowley jerked awake.

"There you are," Aziraphale crooned.

"Mmpf," said Crowley.

It was dark in the room. Disoriented, he blinked a couple of times, until he became fully aware of Aziraphale's warm presence between his legs – which were slung over the angel's shoulders, and the warmth surrounding his cock had been his lush, wet, _heavenly_ mouth.

He dove down again, cutting Crowley's struggling short by enveloping him with heat. His fingers, nestled inside his soft channel, curled.

Pleasure – pure, sparkling bliss – sizzled along Crowley's spine, exploding in his belly like fireworks. He arched his back, all but shoving into it, half-dizzy on sleep but suddenly uncaring as it swirled under his skin, prompting him to move.

He thrust his cock into the angel's mouth, heart rabbiting at the trickle of spit he felt on his balls. Inside him, Aziraphale unerringly found that spot again, like poking a bonfire, and Crowley was burning. The heat was everywhere. So close it might burst out of him.

The demon wrenched his hair against the pillow, fingers clenched in the mattress. "Oh, oh fuck," he gasped. Trying to ride it out seemed futile: he'd already been here before waking, and it felt like starting on the wrong foot. Like a surfer not quite catching the curve of an oncoming wave he found himself, all of a sudden, gliding right on top of it.

It spread out beneath him: all that mass, all that _power_ not pushing him but carrying; lifting him up. It was building. He found himself helpless to stop it.

Higher and higher the pleasure carried him, so high he started to fear for the drop, but before the thought could fully crystallize the wave crested and broke and – he fell. Crowley cried out, feeling his body tense as the air rushed past him – _through_ him – leaving the space of a second to think before it all burst into white, white, white.

…

There was no crash. That was the first thing he became aware of. The sensation of falling just… eased into floating, as if he'd been under water all along.

Crowley blinked. His eyelashes were sticking together. It was still dark, but once he managed to pry his eyes open he found he had no trouble seeing.

The angel was hovering above him with a watchful gaze. A fond warmth crinkled the edges of his eyes, pricking on Crowley's skin.

Heat rushed into his cheeks. He looked away and noticed the wet mess on his belly, splattered right up to his chest hair. His cock was throbbing where it softened against his thigh; as were his loins.

Crowley licked his dry lips. He wanted to stretch and curl his toes, but he knew that moving would break the wonderfully tight feeling coursing through him. "Was that… it?", he asked hoarsely.

Aziraphale cupped his cheek. "It seems so, my dear boy." He smiled. "Your first orgasm."

He leaned over Crowley to kiss him, which did break the feeling. But oh, the angel's body on top of his was heavy and delicious, and that was just as good.

"How are you feeling?"

Crowley hummed. He actually needed a moment to think about that. His thoughts felt like they were gliding through honey: pleasantly slick, but hard to grasp. "Tired," he admitted eventually.

Aziraphale drew back. "Well, you did just wake up."

"And already you wore me out again," Crowley mock-sighed. "Congratulations. A beast in bed. Ten-for-ten would recommend."

The angel snorted. Then he bopped Crowley on the nose. "Silly demon."

"Mmm," said the demon. He closed his eyes and snuggled into Aziraphale's chest, leaning into the cradle of his welcoming arms. Huh. One orgasm and he was about ready to fall asleep again.

But there was one last thing. He grabbed the angel's wrist. "Wake me up like that again?"

Aziraphale kissed him, exhaling a chuckle over his tongue. "It would be my pleasure."


End file.
